Thursday, February 14, 2013

Humble Pie

Oh hi! 
Remember me? 



Did that distract you from the fact that I haven't posted here in a million years? 

Yeah, let’s not delve into the vast pit of my inexcusable delinquency. My new year’s resolution was to dust off the cobwebs and write to you beautiful people, so here I am! Better late then never...right? 

On second thought, don’t answer that.

So I’ve made some empty promises to a few of you. I’ve sworn to post in December in the spirit of Christmas. I’ve taunted you with promises of delicious recipes. It’s now February, so I can’t blame you for reading this with spite. Go ahead - close your browser  as many times as you need to...

Are you back? That feels better, right? Okay. Good.
Let’s move on from this lover’s quarrel, shall we?

So a lot has happened since the last time we ‘spoke’. I’ve gotten a promotion of sorts, the alignment on our car got destroyed, $600 later our car’s alignment got fixed, I’ve contracted and subsequently rid myself of baby fever, Husband got his grades back from the throws of Physics PhD insanity..and he nailed it, the post office will not be delivering mail on Saturdays anymore, a snow storm named after a fish decimated us with 2749827 inches of frozen terror (otherwise known as winter)...AND.....drumroll please........

WE GOT AN APARTMENT!!!!!!!!!! EXCLAMATION POINT PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

one more for good measure.. !

STAY CALM. This is not a drill, people. The Fryers will be moving out of my childhood bedroom. 

You know the scene in Harry Potter when he rides on a Hippogriff? 

If you answered “yes” - that is precisely how I feel! “WOOOOOOOOO!”
If you answered “no” - we aren’t friends anymore...just kidding...but seriously, get with it. 

So yeah, to sum it up - we feel awesome. 

We move on Saturday and luckily for us - all our stuff is still in boxes! BOOM. That’s what happens when your life resides in a storage unit. The downside is, I have no idea what the hell I own. Honestly. I recently asked Husband, “Do we have dishes?” He was not impressed with the fact that I had apparently blocked out the entire first chapter of our marriage throughout which we ate on our own dishes...oops.


During this hiatus, I’ve also experienced some less than stellar things...mostly of my own doing (what a shock). Without digging deep into the embarrassing details of my failings, suffice it to say that I’ve put my foot in my mouth more times than I care to admit. 
Somehow I feel like you’re giving me the deadpan “no kidding” face....

You are aren’t you? 

Yeah, well, I suppose no one who has known me for more than 5 minutes (the equivalent of 1 paragraph of blog reading) would be surprised by that admission. 

It’s strange being 20-something. 
On one hand, I’m all like...

“Yeah! I’m adult! Look at my student loans being all NOT delinquent and stuff! I wear hosery to work and make my own dentist appointments! I know what my credit score is!”

and then on the other hand, I’m like...

“Wah! I don’t know how to network without reverting to awkward laughter! I’m as good at filing taxes as I am at alchemy! What do you mean my selfishness and/or thoughtlessness is offending you?!”

If I’ve learned one thing through this past season of my life, it’s that I am not quite “there” yet. I mean, yes, I pay my own bills. I can vote. I can get into bars and rated R movies without a fake ID...but in a lot of ways I am still a gangly, loud-mouthed child. I do a lot of things that make zero sense. (How much sense, Fryer? This much.. 0) I speak without thinking. I laugh at things that are more cruel than funny. I sometimes revel in the failings of others to boost my own moral. I take too long to apologize....the list goes on.

And if you think I’m just doing that self-deprecating blogger thing again - just ask Husband. 
This ain’t no lie....“bye bye bye!”...yup. That just happened.

I couldn’t resist...I’m a child

The point is - even though I’m taking yet another big step into the world of grown-up life, I still have a lot to learn. After carelessly wounding a friend recently, I told her the name of this future blog post would be in her honor. However, through the long weeks it’s taken me to write it I have inevitably hurt many others. I’m not Vlad the Impaler or anything (Google him), but I am sharp tongued. So this post is dedicated to all you lovelies who I’ve treated less than such. It’s also dedicated to my future self. I’m sorry for giving you so many unpleasant, reflective memories of yourself, Lil.

So in keeping with today’s theme, I give you an ode to my heritage as a firey Italian (Irish, French & Native American) girl... Humble Pie. 

Or in this case, Humble Italian pie - the cousin of the famed pizza pie - Lasagna. (Yes, I hear you rejoicing that this is not another, pipe down)

Step One: Get a huge a$$ bowl. (Did you guys like that stealthy and mature censorship?)

Step Two: Mix 2 rounded tablespoons minced garlic, 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 1/8 teaspoon black pepper, 1 - 2 eggs with 3 cups (or 4 if you really dig cheesy filling) cups cottage cheese (use 1 egg for full fat cottage and cheese and 2 eggs for low fat). Season with Italian spice as you wish.


Step Three: Thaw a bag of frozen organic broccoli or two bags of frozen organic spinach (yes, I am snooty enough to write organic twice) and chop em' up. Fold into cheese mixture.

Step Four: Spread some homemade marinara that has simmered for at least 4 hours onthe bottom of your stone or glass baking dish. ( jk friendz. You can absolutely use pasta sauce from a jar and I won't judge you...since that may or may not be what you see pictured below.)

Go ahead, judge me. 
Step Five: LAYER DAT LIKE A BOSS. Non-boil lasagna noodle, filling, tomato sauce, noodles, filling, tomato sauce, noodles, get by now, yes?

Layer # 1

Layer # 3784...or 6...whatevs

Step Six: Add some gratuitous cheese. 

Extra cheese: Not for the faint of heart.. or the lactose intolerant.
Step Seven: Cover that sucker with an aluminum foil tent, so your lovely layers can read ghost stories and stay up late...or just bake more efficiently.

Careful not to touch the foil to the cheese or you'll lose all that glorious dairy!

Step Eight: Bake for 50 minutes. Remove Foil. Bake for 15 more....waft the tastiness in the general direction of your nose holes...ew that didn't work out...nostrils. Let's call them nostrils.

There you have it. A humble pie. Simple ingredients. Easy preparation. 

Though, admittedly, coming to terms with flaws and interpersonal failings is not simple nor easy. Like this, and arguably any culinary conquest, the steps in that process are necessary and more than worthwhile. 

When it’s time to eat humble pie: pick yourself up, put on your big girl (or boy) pants (note: leggings are not pants, ladies), apologize, and grow. 

Remember that ‘bloom where you’re planted’ post? Well, this is the weeding part. Don’t use your growth to silently choke the beautiful gardenia next to you. Don’t cast a shadow on the blade of grass just poking through the dirt. Take all those toxic parts of yourself by the root and rip them up. It’ll be painful, but it’s worth it. 


  1. How could anyone take a mouthful of that ooey-gooey Humble Italian Pie and NOT forgive you?! You "cook" with a perfect blend of quirky and honest self-deprecation, heaping spoonfuls of reality, and dashes of hard-earned wisdom. YUM!

  2. Aww shucks! With compliments like that, I'll be floating on my hippogriff all day!